Puppet
by Calista-Cousland
Summary: Hyrule will be happy. Father will be happy. Maybe Mother will be happy as well. And I might be happy that they are happy. But... Is that real happiness? I wouldn't know. And will I ever? Probably not. But that is something I have learned to live with.
1. Chapter 1

**Calista-Cousland: I hope you enjoy this Zelda fanfic! Something small to start out with is best, correct? More will come as soon as I know that at least some people are happy with my work!**

**Disclaimer: I assure anyone that may be reading this that I do not own the Legend of Zelda.**

**0o0**

It began when I was young.

The strings to my heart and soul had always been tight. The grip strangled me like the corsets I wear each day.

Father wasn't always angry. Mother could easily calm him. Although she was no longer here, I somewhat wish she was. She soothed Father, and he was kind. But he had cracked when the disease killed Mother. He had held his grip stronger, with more force. Mother had been nicer with them, but...

Mother was no different.

She had been the first to hold the strings. I could remember. When I was little, about five years old, that is when it began. She would dress me up in more and more frills and more and more ribbons each year, more and more makeup, more and more accessories, and tell me all sorts of rules. How to talk to specific people, how to bow the correct way, how to put on a seemingly caring smile.

As I got older, it became worse. My heart was basically shrinking by the painful pressure; I could feel the strings tighten. I was their only child, and a daughter, no less. They had to prepare me for marriage. I was the bait for a wealthy prince. The hook on the fishing line, and Mother and Father held the pole. They cast it, and so they get to control it. When royal parents set their bait, which are their heirs, in the waters that are their future, you would think that only fate gets to decide which way the water flows. But no, that is incorrect. My parents, like most other royal ones; they have found a way.

"Sit up straight," they would tell me. "Smile for the townsfolk," they demanded. "Curtsey when the nice nobles bow," they said blatantly. "Listen. Follow along. Come here. Sit. Stand. Smile. Laugh. Walk, don't run."

Then came the insults; the screaming.

"You need to loose weight. Your hair needs to be longer. That dress does not flatter you. You have so many flaws! Do you expect a prince to fall in love with you when you look like _that_? You aren't worth this! You are a disgrace! Why can't you just listen to me? Why do you speak out of turn? And you're wasting your life away on books! A real princess isn't like this!"

They didn't come in such a linear row, but they came nonetheless. The screaming came only from Father, since the insults' occurrences happened only after Mother had left us. But, I wasn't displeased at Father. He had gone through a lot. He was too old to give another heir to Hyrule, and Mother was the only one he truly loved. He was lucky to actually find a woman that loved him back before he was married off to a stranger, like I will.

He wanted a son; I knew he did, right from the start. That is why he is embarrassed of me. I try my hardest to impress him. Many say I am talented and smart, and my nursemaid, Impa, sometimes whispers to me that it is unfortunate that I am royalty, and that I will be droned out by my husband. She left out the husband part, but I knew that she thought it.

I know more than people think I do. I am an excellent listener, so says my tutors. I read, I write, and do so wonderfully, but it is not enough. I will never stand out.

Standing out of the crowd... I must enjoy it while I can. In only a matter of time, suitors will come, and I will be married off to a man I barely know. I will bear him children, grow old with him, and then die with him. A man I do not, will not, and cannot love. It might be possible for others, but not for me.

For he will be the puppet master next.

**.~.**

I wonder if anyone cares? About me, I mean.

I am not like other princesses. I do not believe that there is another for me out there. How could there be? I am so dead inside. Any conversation is a formal affair when you speak with me. I do not dream that a prince will sweep me up my feet. I believe that he will take me away. I do not yearn for that prince to fall in love with me, and I him. I know he will be there for me, and I will love my children. But not him. Never him.

He probably won't be a bad person. Maybe just another puppet, like me. Just another royal person whose life has been given away by their royal parents. A sacrifice for their country, almost.

That is, until he discovers that he has the power to break his strings. Shed the controls and instead take the reins of mine.

Hyrule will be happy. Father will be happy. Maybe Mother, beyond the land of the living, will be happy as well. And I might be; I might be happy that they are happy. But... Is that real happiness?

I wouldn't know.

Will I ever? Will I ever be shone true happiness? Possibly not. But that is something I have learned to live with.

**.~.**

A diary to document my thoughts? Impa brought up the idea. I pondered it for a only little while, as I discarded it quickly. If I began to write about my feelings, I might simply break. Break into a million bits and more. Shattered into nothing.

If at all possible, I might become even more dead inside than now.

If I wrote, I would be reminded of how little I am worth. A sad truth.

And what would become of me if Father read it? He would be seething with rage, I can feel it. His would be very, very displeased to find out how I really, truly am.

He has told me that he had met his ideal daughter in a dream.

He said we were nothing alike.

Similarities were small, such as her long blonde hair and big blue eyes like mine. But her eyes had life in them; her eyes sparkled. And she had such a bubbly personality, although did not speak unless spoken to. Truly, the ideal princess, like in a fairy tale.

But why was I so different? Was it simply because I had figured out my real ranking? Not the beautiful princess on the balcony overlooking the castle's courtyard where the most handsome prince you have ever seen stood underneath and, with his dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and charming smile, sang songs of love, but instead, the candy for the crying child that the mother gives to her baby to keep its mouth shut; the one who waits and waits for a royal family to take the bait and share their wealth?

Depression is a wondrous thing. It can get you to do things you never thought you would.

I had heard of the self punishment that was inflicted by those who had been overwhelmed with depression. The lonely teenage village girl who was caught doing so was hanged, or so I had heard. Maybe something worse became of her. Accused of being unworthy of the holy land of Hyrule that the Goddesses bestowed upon us, they got rid of her. How brutal. As if I had say in what happened to that girl in Kakariko Village. I wonder if they even gave her a proper grave.

Crime is looked down upon highly in Hyrule. But what if I, the princess every Hylian knew (so they think) and loved so very much did it as well? Would something like that even slide with them? Would they even hear of it?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But as the only heir, I suppose anything would be done to keep me living until I give at least one child. It's awful, but what can you do in a situation like this?

Nothing.

**.~.**

"Zelda!"

I turned my head to see Father in the doorway. I had neglected to fall asleep again. It was two in the morning, and Father was furious.

"Father, that was rude. You did not knock."

"Don't speak to me in that tone, Zelda! It is unwise. Sarcasm is _not_ appreciated."

His eyes narrowed, and I took his signal like always. My head lowered, as if I felt ashamed. I didn't. Well, not any more than usual.

"What are you still doing up?"

_"What are you still doing up,"_ I wanted to ask, but didn't.

And what would I reply with? The same thing I did every night, or rather, morning.

"I don't know."

"You never know! What is wrong with you?"

He turned to leave me alone again, as he had clearly given up on me. It was no different from the outcome yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that.

He had given up on me.

And just like every strikingly similar scene, afterwards was the only time I could go to bed.

Because even though he was angry, even though he was yelling, and even though he had given up... If he cared enough to come and check on me, maybe, just maybe...

He cared about me.

**.~.**

I don't have dreams. Or nightmares. Just darkness. And I don't really mind it. If your whole world is dark, you don't really miss the light.

Ah, light. It is but a faint memory from when I was incredibly young, before the hands I dreaded began to try and mold me.

My insides have changed, whether I admit to that or not. When my parents took me and kneaded me like dough, a part of me on the inside moved with my physical body, as much as I hate to say it. I have put up a wall, and I don't wish for that wall to be torn down. It could easily be someone that wants to help me into being a happy person. But it could easily be someone who wants to mold me some more, as well. Maybe even easier to be the second kind of person. And that is a risk I really, really do not want to take.

But as a young girl, I was happy, for a time. I can only faintly remember my time as a four year old, slight memories of seeing Lake Hylia for the first time and eating sweets for the first time; both were simple experiences that brought me into a world of content. Back then, I felt free. But I was sadly unaware that even at that time, Mother was taking her sewing skills to use and weaving invisible strings into me. And before I knew it, she had tied those strings' ends into a cross-shaped piece of wood, and now that it was in her possession, I was free no longer.

But how was I supposed to prevent that? And now, how am I supposed to cure it?

I become a person I didn't want to be. Sure, it was interesting for me to be able to play many instruments, learn the history of other countries, know how to properly dance in many ways, learn posture, etiquette, and various other things, but... Those weren't my decisions.

Sometimes I must sit down and imagine myself as the one I want to be, but I can't seem to figure out who that girl exactly is.

Who is Zelda, anyway?

"On the outside," I sighed. "Zelda is the beautiful princess of Hyrule, a girl who keeps her cool always and smiles at everyone she knows. She is happy girl."

Would people be disappointed to learn that those smiles are fake? Or that I am not at all happy. And that keeping my cool is only possible because I don't feel anything else?

"And on the inside, Zelda is no one. Nothing. Unoccupied. Bare. Blank. Hollow."

I was shocked that my eyes opened as widely as they did. I had known that I was all of these things for some time now. I suppose I just haven't told myself this directly.

"I am... Empty."

I felt hopelessly lost with no purpose and searched for anything inside of me; any emotion, anything meaningful.

And couldn't.

I was extremely desolate.

But I didn't cry.

No, I couldn't cry.

Because if I cried...

_He _would have won.

And this war wasn't over yet.

**0o0**

**Calista-Cousland: Was it depressing? I asked myself, "Why do I see Zelda as the collected, proper princess all of the time? What if that is only on the outside?" I thought that if I were in Zelda's place, or any princess' place, that I would feel broken inside. Because in a strong way, I would be exactly like a puppet: every action is chosen for me.**

**In this story, Zelda has realized this from Day 1, and that has, frankly, killed her inside.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Calista-Cousland: Please keep an open mind while reading this story, as well as all others.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda.**

**0o0**

It's snowing outside.

I wonder if I'm like that? Snow, I mean. No matter how much you bundle up, you can still feel that it's cold. And if you come into it unprepared, it will become extremely harsh.

It had stuck to my window overnight. Maybe I could just touch it, once more, and the memories would come back. My mind was flooded of the times when I was young. When life was peaceful, so very, very peaceful...

Wrapped in a pink sweater was me, my short blonde hair in two pigtails. Adorable, yet unsuspecting. Exactly what Mother and Father wanted. Did they even think that their daughter, whose life was all planned out for her, would turn out this way? Did they give a thought about what I might of wanted?

No. No, they didn't. I'm sure of it.

But what is the point in feeling sorry for myself? This was how life was, and I had to except that. In some ways, I had. But I did wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't been born like this. What if I was ditzy? Maybe then I could be happy. In a terrible way, but happy nonetheless.

I sat down on my bed. My bedroom was my favorite room in the entire castle, because no one was allowed inside of it without my consent. I could always reply with a "no" if they asked me, "Zelda are you decent?" I didn't even have to lock the door.

I still did.

But... What if I was to make something into myself? Instead of wishing for it, could I? Is it possible?

I unlocked my door, opened it, and peered down the hallway. No one. Creeping out, I kept my head cocked left or right and gazed upon every living thing, even the plants. Most of what I saw were guards, simply doing their jobs, confused as to why my face looked so studious. I had gone through almost every area in the castle. But, it was no use; I could not find her, the one I went to whenever I had a question.

As another resort, I asked around, and no guard seemed to have a clue. Figures. Why would they need to worry about a nursemaid?

Finally, I reached her chambers, a room I had never gone in before. I knocked, and with no answer, I held my ear up to the door. I could hear a slight sound of someone moving around slightly. Although, they didn't seem to hear me.

I knocked again. The person was still up and moving, faint words coming from inside, but still had not head me.

I gave up. Knocking was hopeless. It was rude, but this was my own home, yes? After only a slightly reassuring telling to myself that all was well, I freely opened the door.

"Hmm? Princess?"

And there she was, to my suspicions. Impa.

She looked surprised to see me, and I felt completely embarrassed that I had opened the door without permission. But like all of my emotions, that soon faded and I began to question her.

"What are you doing in here?"

I had failed to greet her, simply because I had searched all around, so rushing the conversation to a point was expected.

"Nothing important, Princess. What troubles you?"

I scanned her room. Clean, as always. Despite her looks, Impa was always prim. A book, I suppose taken from our library, was in her hand. The Sheikah: A Telling of the Shadow People.

Huh. Impa wasn't a big reader, and compared no where near an avid one like me. I took my comfort in reading, after all; it gave me something to do. In any case, reading wasn't an affair Impa would usually bother herself with.

"Impa, what are you reading?"

Impa looked down at her book, as if she had forgotten. "A book," she stated blatantly. "It was originally written by an ancestor of mine from long, long ago; before I was born. It tells of their current skills in magical and combative art. I... Missed hearing of them."

A hint of a sympathetic emotion came over me. It shouldn't of been a surprise to me that Impa missed the other Sheikahs, seeing as Impa had been the only one found since the Hyrulean Civil War, then the Imprisoning War, and especially after the Great Flood. Sheikah members were extremely, extremely rare. And all this time, I hadn't ever spared a thought to my loved ones; only to myself, and never to Impa _or _Father. I felt more horrible than usual with this knowledge.

Before I could apologize for my foolishness, Impa carried on. "I was just catching up on my ancestors' doings from the past... But I will now return to your troubles, Princess. What ails you?"

I lowered my eyes for a second. How could I concern Impa with the same problem for the billionth time? It would be much too selfish. "Nothing, Impa..."

Her sharp red eyes seemed to pierce through me, compelling me to fess up. She had seen right through my lie that I was fine. It was if she had both the Mask and Lens of Truth in her soul!

"I just thought... What if there was a way to put feeling inside of me? I wondered... Could that be possible? To break this sad, outer shell around my heart and feel like a normal person?"

Impa smiled lovingly at me, her eyes softening and giving off the look that a mother would give her child. Not even Mother had given a look so caring to me.

"Only if you break your ties, Zelda."

Impa had called me by my name, and not just 'Princess.' This meant she was no doubt serious about our conversation.

Acting unladylike, my shoulders slumped. "And how could I do that? There's no way..."

Impa bent down to my height and looked at me with impulses of encouragement. Then she spoke in a whisper.

"Escape."

o0o

Escape.

That single word was still ringing in my ears.

After Impa's suggestion, I had blanked out. Supposedly, I had walked back to my room, locked the door shut, and sat on my bed, mind afloat in an abyss.

Escape.

Could I? Without bringing anyone or anything, just simply... Leave?

That couldn't happen; the plan would surely be full of flaws. The guards around the castle made sure that no one that wasn't supposed to got in or out of the castle. Those trying to come in the castle and those trying to get out with no permission would both be overruled. If I even attempted at getting out, it would be almost inevitable that I would be seen, caught, and taken to Father for punishment. And that punishment would not be pretty; Father knows that isolation would be gladly taken by me. Although, I had never gotten into deep trouble before, so I do not know what he would do. I didn't wish to discover that, either.

But still...

Escape.

That word seemed so lovely. But if it was to happen, it would have to happen right. And how would that be done?

"Ugh," I groaned as I flew the covers over me and let my head fall down onto my pillow.

The thinking that I was doing kept me up all night, but there was a bright side to all of this.

This hopelessness, this eagerness, this searching for the perfect way to do as Impa said, this churning in the brain, this severe turmoil inside of me...

They were all emotions, and I welcomed each one.

**0o0**

**Calista-Cousland: Bad or good, you decide. Please review with your personal thoughts.**


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